


Affords Illumination

by blehgah



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Self-Indulgent, jeonghan's appearance is Very Brief, like on Phenomenal Levels, rated for language, vent fic tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7989412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehgah/pseuds/blehgah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seungcheol is Jihoon's regular study buddy. They've known each other for years, and when Jihoon does something unexpectedly intimate, he begins to question the nature of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affords Illumination

**Author's Note:**

> uh so this is really self-indulgent because i wrote this to Feel Better About Life In General, so please don't take it too seriously i guess

It starts with something small.

It’s sometime past reasonable o’clock, past 2AM at _least_ , and they’re bent over their notes, spread out over Jihoon’s tiny dining room table. Boxes of takeout and paper coffee cups are scattered between papers, and Seungcheol has one (1) chopstick in his mouth when Jihoon looks up at him.

“Hyung,” he says, trying to catch Seungcheol’s attention.

Seungcheol only hums in response without looking up.

Sighing, Jihoon reaches out. There’s a small cluster of fried rice on Seungcheol’s chin, and Jihoon picks it off with ease.

Just as Jihoon’s popping the food into his mouth, Seungcheol looks up, his eyebrows raised.

Busted.

“Uh,” Jihoon says around the rice.

Seungcheol grins. “What, are you hungry?” Seungcheol says like it’s supposed to be funny.

Jihoon can feel a blush forming in his cheeks. He tries to fight it with a scowl, but Seungcheol just laughs and pinches Jihoon’s cheek.

“Focus, Jihoonie,” he tells him, and then he’s lowering his rice-free face to look at his notes again.

There’s a lump in Jihoon’s throat, and he reaches for a cup of cold coffee to wash it down. For a brief moment, he wishes there was something stronger in his hand. And then he remembers the mid-term exam he has in two days, and he sighs and returns to his notes.

 

* * *

 

“So, like, it was a little bit gay,” Jihoon’s saying, avoiding Soonyoung’s eyes.

Still, he can imagine the way Soonyoung’s eyes crinkle with a little too much ease.

“That was actually _really_ gay, Jihoonie,” Soonyoung coos. Jihoon wants to punch him a little.

“I’ve known him for years, you know,” Jihoon adds, hoping it’ll make a difference, knowing very well it won’t.

“I know.” Soonyoung’s grin grows. “I’ve been rooting for you for probably almost as long.”

“Liar!”

Chuckling, Soonyoung dodges Jihoon’s open palm. “Okay, fine. I only started rooting for you two _after_ you had your gay awakening.”

When Jihoon goes in for the kill, he actually connects; when all Soonyoung does is laugh and rub his arm, Jihoon feels utterly defeated, though he honestly doubts it has anything to do with Soonyoung’s unwillingness to play along.

“‘Gay awakening’,” Jihoon mutters. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“What would you call it, then?”

Jihoon pauses to ponder this. “Getting over denial, I guess,” he says slowly.

“It’s _basically_ the same thing.”

With a groan, Jihoon buries his face in his hands and counts to ten. When he gets to seven, he looks up and finds Soonyoung looking down at him with a hint of concern on his round face.

“But,” Jihoon says, and Soonyoung grins at him again, though Jihoon won’t give in this time and keeps his hands to himself, “you’re kidding, right? You don’t actually think we’d be good together, right?”

“I dunno, Jihoon. You guys have that whole size difference thing going on and all.”

Jihoon hits Soonyoung again. This time, Soonyoung actually puts some distance between their bodies as he laughs and clutches at his stomach.

“I’m serious,” Jihoon warns.

“So am I!”

“These things don’t just happen overnight, you know,” Jihoon continues, mostly to himself, though he knows Soonyoung’s still paying attention by the way his grin stretches. “Like I said, I’ve known him for years. Since high school. Unfortunately.” Jihoon sighs. “And he was so gross in high school, you know, always really sweaty and annoying with teachers. And now I just—I just go and clean off his face like it’s totally normal?”

“Some friends are like that, you know,” Soonyoung points out, and actually, he’s not wrong.

“Yeah…” Jihoon trails off. When he speaks again, his chest deflates. “But we’ve _never_ been like that. This is definitely a new development.”

Soonyoung’s eyes sparkle under the tungsten lighting. “Are you sure about that?”

Now that’s certainly a good question.

 

* * *

 

“Here, take this,” Seungcheol says, pressing some bills into Jihoon’s hand, “and get me my usual. I’ll save the table on the third floor, you know, the usual.”

Seungcheol has said ‘usual’ twice in the same sentence and he’s already running out the door. Jihoon crumples the bills in his hand and starts to wonder how long they’ve had a _usual_ and why he knows it like the back of his hand.

Also, for the record, he totally would have paid for the damn coffee himself, it’s not like it’s _expensive_ , but he guesses Seungcheol has to just go and be a gentleman.

It’s not that big a deal, really, especially if Seungcheol’s usual is one cream and one sugar and Jihoon gets the same thing half the time just to save himself the time (he prefers his coffee black, but one cream and one sugar helps soothe his tongue when all he wants to do is bite it out of his mouth in frustration). At least, that’s what he tells himself when he relays the order to the cashier.

When he goes to pick up the coffee from the side counter, he ends up with a cup down the front of his shirt, and then he’s a little thankful for the money; it’ll be compensation for the trip back home to change his damn clothes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the poor employee babbles as they dab at Jihoon—incredibly uselessly, but it’s the thought that counts—with a wad of napkins.

Jihoon’s pocket vibrates. It’s probably Seungcheol wondering why the hell he’s taking so long.

“It’s okay,” Jihoon sighs, ignoring his phone, trying desperately to ignore the faint burn on his chest.

“I’ll get you another right away,” the employee promises, and they escape to the machines to avoid Jihoon’s hot glare.

Jihoon’s pocket vibrates again. He’s thankful that the coffee didn’t get that far, at least.

Once Jihoon wipes off his hands and goes for his phone, Seungcheol pokes his head into the coffee shop’s door. He makes a beeline for Jihoon and suddenly there are hands on Jihoon’s shoulders, patting him in a way that’s just as useless as the employee’s, but, somehow, more appreciated.

“What happened?” Seungcheol asks.

“What does it look like?” Jihoon replies with a withering look.

Seungcheol ignores him. “Want a ride home?” he asks instead.

“What about the study session?” Jihoon responds, and it looks like they’re having some sort of question competition.

“Postponed until further notice.”

Seungcheol produces a few napkins and it’s still very, incredibly useless, but Jihoon feels warm at the gesture despite the way his shirt has cooled and sticks lightly to his skin.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Jihoon says. It’s weak coming out of his mouth, and he hates the way he feels small under Seungcheol’s focusedi gaze.

“Just let me be a good hyung for once in your life,” Seungcheol chides in response.

Jihoon shuts his mouth with a click of his teeth.

Seungcheol’s still wiping uselessly at Jihoon’s front when the employee returns. They stop a few feet away from the pair, visibly sweating, and thrust a paper tray at them.

“Here’s your order again,” the employee says with a strained smile. “I’m so sorry.”

Wearing a bright smile, Seungcheol turns and takes the tray. “Don’t worry about it!” His expression softens as he regards the employee. “It’s tough during exam season, isn’t it?”

The employee nods. “Yeah,” they say, ducking their head, “so, uh. Have a good day, and good luck with studying!”

They slip away before Seungcheol can offer any more condolences. Jihoon’s shirt is cold and he’s sure that stepping out into the late autumn air won’t help any.

“Everything’s a mess,” Jihoon sighs. Maybe it’s a touch dramatic.

“You’re not wrong,” Seungcheol replies, but he’s smiling. He tucks the coffee tray against his side, freeing up a hand to brush at Jihoon’s shirt one last time. “Come on, let’s go home and get you cleaned up.”

Jihoon looks at the coffee, looks at the floor, looks at the few onlookers over Seungcheol’s shoulder, anywhere but Seungcheol’s soft, smiling face.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, “hyung.”

 

* * *

 

 

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Send help_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_what’s the crisis today??_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Don’t be like this_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_But, ok, this might be worse than i thought_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_explain pls_

 

Even from inside the bathroom, Jihoon can hear Seungcheol puttering around. He can hear the clink of dishes, the occasional scrape of a chair, and maybe even some faint whistling.

 

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_He brought me back to his place_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_ok that sounds rly vague and suggestive PLS EXPLAIN_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Coffee shop employee spilled coffee on me when we were out to study, so he brought me here to get me cleaned up_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_OMG_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_His place is closer to campus than mine so i guess it kinda makes sense?? But he gave me one of his shirts. It’s uh a little big_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_S I Z E  D I F F E R E N C E_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Stop_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_But it’s really comfortable and it smells good and i’m really fucking gay_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Please PLEASE send help_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_what do you want me to do??? sounds like you’re having the time of your life_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_You’re fucking useless thanks for nothing_

 

There’s a knock at the door.

“Are you okay in there?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon looks in the mirror. In Seungcheol’s t-shirt and skinny jeans, he looks kind of like a thirteen-year-old, kind of like a twink. A twinky teenager? Either way, not good. He’s blushing up to his ears.

“Just a sec,” he replies.

 

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_have you ever thought he’s gay for you too?_

 

Dressed in Seungcheol’s clothes, Jihoon would be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. There’s definitely something intimate about this whole situation, maybe even a bit over-the-top for a coffee spill, but thinking about it too hard makes Jihoon’s brain heat up and melt to mush.

 

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_I’m wearing his fucking clothes, what do you fucking think_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_pls keep me updated_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_I hate you and you suck_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_But ofc i will who do you think i am_

 

Jihoon locks his phone and tucks it into his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he opens the door and steps back into the outside world.

He’s been here enough times to know the layout. It doesn’t make him feel any better, but he does manage a brave face as he pulls up at the kitchen table, hoping the pink in his cheeks has died down.

When Seungcheol turns to face him, his eyes trail up and down Jihoon’s body. He smiles, nice and slow, and his dimples poke holes into Jihoon’s heart.

“You know, sometimes I forget how short you are,” Seungcheol says.

At least now Jihoon can blame his flush on indignance.

“Firstly, shut up,” Jihoon replies, but he just leaves it at that. Seungcheol laughs.

“Here, I reheated the coffee,” Seungcheol says, pushing a cup in Jihoon’s direction.

“Thanks,” Jihoon mumbles. He’s thankful to hide his face behind the cup for a breath or two.

Still, he can feel Seungcheol’s eyes on him as he drinks. When he lowers the cup, Seungcheol just smiles again, so soft around the edges Jihoon could melt. He’s honestly a little surprised he doesn’t transform into a puddle on the spot.

 _I hate you,_ he thinks, projecting the thought in Seungcheol’s general direction, _I hate you and you suck. Stop being so fucking cute, you’re ruining my life_.

Has Seungcheol always been _cute_? Jihoon will admit the dimples were always a plus, even when Seungcheol was gross and sweaty in high school, but everything else about Seungcheol is the same. Has Jihoon secretly been harbouring a crush on Seungcheol all this time?

It’s a little unsettling to think about, so Jihoon tries to think of something else.

“We could just study here, I guess,” he suggests, fiddling with the handle of the cup. “If you want.”

“Sure,” Seungcheol agrees, so easy and casual. “Sorry about the mess, though.”

Jihoon shrugs. “You say that as if my place is any better,” Jihoon replies.

“True.” Seungcheol stands and searches for his bag. “We can get pizza later too, if you want,” he says over his shoulder.

There’s no way Jihoon can say no to that.

 

* * *

 

“What are you wearing?”

“Don’t,” Jihoon replies, slamming the front door shut.

“Touchy,” one of his roommates, Wonwoo, replies.

Jihoon keeps his head down as he toes off his shoes. He can feel Wonwoo’s eyes on him, studying him like a specimen on a lab bench.

“I feel like I’ve seen that shirt before,” Wonwoo observes after a few seconds, “but, like, not on _you_. Not to mention it looks three sizes too big for you.”

“It’s gotta be a large at _most_.”

“And you’re, what, extra small? Children’s large?”

“Haha, short joke, I get it, so funny.” Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“Oh!” Wonwoo hits his fist into the palm of the opposite hand. “It’s Seungcheol-hyung’s!”

“Congrats, detective, do you want a reward now? I’m broke, by the way,” Jihoon grumbles.

Even as he disappears into his room to drop off his bag, he can still hear Wonwoo’s voice.

“Calm down, god,” Wonwoo says. “What’s got you so pissy?”

“I dunno, life?”

“Drama queen.”

Jihoon shuts his door and the background noise in the apartment shrinks into nothing. It’s so quiet he can hear his own breath coming in and out of his body.

He approaches his mirror and takes another look at the shirt. It comes down past his hips, stopping mid-thigh. It’s pink with a black logo printed up the side, and the neck-hole is so big it reveals his collarbone.

Grumbling under his breath, Jihoon throws the shirt off. It lands somewhere on his bed. He sighs at his reflection, patting his stomach where the coffee from earlier has completely dried, and decides he needs a shower.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says when Jihoon slips out of his bedroom.

“It’s whatever,” Jihoon replies, strolling past to get to the bathroom.

“That’s pretty nice of him to lend you his shirt, though.” Wonwoo leans out of his seat to meet Jihoon’s eyes as Jihoon hovers outside the bathroom. “What happened?”

“Nothing too exciting. I’m actually surprised you can’t smell the coffee on me.” He gestures to the towel draped over his shoulders. “Some barista fucked up and dropped coffee all over my shirt. Thus the shower.” He gestures at the bathroom door next. “That you’ve so rudely interrupted.”

Wonwoo waves his hand and returns to whatever it is he’s reading.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Wonwoo repeats, pointedly.

“That’s right.”

When Jihoon comes out of the bathroom later, Wonwoo looks at him again.

“So, instead of bringing you back here for a change of clothes, he just lent you a shirt?” Wonwoo asks.

Jihoon sighs. “Can’t you save the questions for when I’m not naked?”

“I’m just curious.” Wonwoo looks down at his notes again. “Sorry, sorry.”

Again, Jihoon sighs. “It’s okay.” His slippers squeak a little as he pads back to his bedroom. “But to answer your question,” he adds over his shoulder, “I don’t get it either. But it’s not like I was just gonna say no to the guy.”

“Apparently.”

Just before Jihoon closes his door, he hears Wonwoo add, “You looked good, by the way. Real cute.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to reply to that at all, not one bit, not even when Wonwoo giggles to himself on the other side of the door.

 

* * *

 

 **[Sent by: Jeonghan-hyung]**  
-photo attached-  
_what the hell is this doing here lol_

 

It’s Jihoon’s now-clean shirt, hung up in what Jihoon assumes is Seungcheol’s shower stall.

 

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Didn’t Seungcheol-hyung tell you what happened?_

 **[Sent by: Jeonghan-hyung]**  
_i thought it’d be more fun to hear it from you_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_And why would you think that_

 **[Sent by: Jeonghan-hyung]**  
_bc cheol was being dodgy about it_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Why? It wasn’t that big a deal_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Some barista spilled coffee on me when we were out studying, that’s all_

 **[Sent by: Jeonghan-hyung]**  
_oh. for real?_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Ya for real. Do you think i’m lying?_

 **[Sent by: Jeonghan-hyung]**  
_noooo. i guess you both can’t be lying then_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Is this what you meant by being dodgy?? Hyung omg_

 **[Sent by: Jeonghan-hyung]**  
_WHAT he was acting all weird about it when i asked, so i thought it was like a cover-up story or smth_

 **[Sent by: Jeonghan-hyung]**  
_sorry i didn’t mean to assume_

 

Jihoon buries his face in his pillow. This is not what he needed to wake up to today.

 

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]** **  
** _It’s ok. It’ll be out of your hair before you know it_

 **[Sent by: Jeonghan-hyung]**  
_and you do know I love my hair~_

 

Jihoon takes screencaps of the entire conversation and sends it to Soonyoung.

 

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_you know i’m in the next room right_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Do you really want me to come over there just to show you this_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_you right_

 

It only takes a few moments for Soonyoung to read the conversation.

 

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_gay_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_That’s all you have to say??_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_ye_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Ok now i’m really gonna come over there and fucking fight you_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_bring it_

 

When all Jihoon does is roll over in bed, he gets another text from his roommate.

 

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_you fake_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_I’m fighting myself first_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_tru_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_i can’t believe i didn’t see you in the shirt at all tho i bet it was hilarious_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_or maybe even ~sexy~_

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
_Ok now i’m really gonna come over there and fight you_

 

Jihoon grabs Seungcheol’s shirt from where it was folded neatly on top of his desk before heading over to the next room.

Soonyoung’s head pops up from under his covers, his blond hair a ragged mess.

“It’s pink,” Soonyoung says. His voice is raspy with sleep.

“He likes pink, I guess,” Jihoon replies.

Soonyoung grins. “It matches your hair.”

With a heavy sigh, Jihoon perches on the edge of Soonyoung’s bed. He settles against Soonyoung’s legs and crumples up the shirt in his lap.

After a few seconds of silence, Soonyoung speaks up: “So.”

“So.”

“So now what?”

Jihoon looks down at the shirt in his hands. “I don’t know,” he says, mostly to the shirt.

Soonyoung nudges Jihoon’s back with his knee. “Do you like him?”

“Wasn’t that already obvious?”

Slowly, Jihoon curls in on himself, bringing his elbows to his knees. Soonyoung presses a warm leg against Jihoon’s back.

“You know what I mean,” Soonyoung says in explanation. “Like—do you want to date him?”

With a loud groan, Jihoon pushes his face against his knees.

“I don’t know! This is all so fucking sudden, I don’t know,” he whines. The shirt is warm and soft against his cheek, a cheap consolation. “The moment I do one gay thing I’m suddenly in love with him?”

“Technically, it was two gay things, if you’re counting the rice thing.”

“I don’t know what counts anymore.” Jihoon clamps his eyes shut. “I just realized the other day that we have a ‘usual spot’ in the library. And like, we have regular study days, you know.”

“Yeah, but are they study ‘ _dates_ ’?”

“I didn’t think they were.”

Both Seungcheol and Jihoon are genuinely studious people, but it always helps to have someone nearby to kick your ass into gear. They’re not in the same program, though they find that’s actually beneficial: having each other around helps them be competitive, but not enough to the point of animosity.

Moreover, not only did they have regular study days in the library, they often met up to study outside of that, too. The Rice Incident happened on one of those days.

“I’ve never—” Jihoon stops to sigh. His voice is muffled by the shirt in his grip. “You know. I’ve never had a significant other. So maybe I wouldn’t know.”

“There’s no rush, right?” Soonyoung says. Finally, something useful, something Jihoon can cling to with hope. “It’s not like he’s said anything, either.”

Jihoon sits up a little. “You know what,” he says, “you’re right.”

Soonyoung grins, smug. “You’re damn right I’m right.”

In a flurry of pillows and blankets, Jihoon makes a dive for Soonyoung’s sides. Soonyoung’s a slippery one, but Jihoon manages to trap him in a cocoon of sheets, and it’s not long before Soonyoung calls uncle.

“I know it’s hard,” Soonyoung starts, out of breath, facing Jihoon while lying on his side, “but try not to stress too much about it. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

Jihoon glances away and pushes his bangs out of his face.

“I guess,” Jihoon mumbles in reply. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, so… I guess it better work out.”

Soonyoung grins. “Gay.”

Jihoon shoves his roommate hard enough to make him face the wall. “Asshole.”

 

* * *

 

 **[Sent by: Seungcheol-hyung]**  
_I’ll bring your shirt to the library today, and you can bring mine, and we can exchange when we meet up._

 **[Sent by: Seungcheol-hyung]**  
_And I’ll take care of the coffee this time ;)_

 

Damn Seungcheol and damn his winky-faces.

The shirt is folded neatly and pressed flat between Jihoon’s books when he arrives at their usual spot. If someone asked him why they preferred this particular table, the one on the third floor on the left hand side coming up from the North entrance, Jihoon wouldn’t have an answer. After years of coming to the same place routinely, it’s just hard not to like it.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, wearing his usual smile. It’s not a special smile at all, not by any means, and sure, it suits his face and brings out those damn dimples, but it’s not something to write home about, right?

Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek before offering a meek smile of his own. Fuck his traitorous brain.

“Hey,” Jihoon replies, sliding into the seat opposite his hyung.

Seungcheol slides a paper cup in his direction.

“Ah, a large,” Jihoon comments as he picks it up to take a taste test. One cream and one sugar, just how Seungcheol likes it. Still, he can’t complain, especially not when it’s free and warm. “Feeling generous today?”

“You say that as if I’m not always generous,” Seungcheol teases.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Jihoon takes a longer gulp before pulling his bag into his lap. When he sees the pink shirt upon opening his bag, his chest tightens a bit.

“Here,” he says, pulling it out and offering it. “I, uh, I washed it, too.”

“You shouldn’t have.” But Seungcheol’s still smiling, so Jihoon takes it as a good sign.

They trade shirts without a problem. They don’t even brush fingers, not like they do in the movies.

Jihoon chews on the lip of his coffee cup as Seungcheol buries the shirt under his school books.

“Come on, let’s get started,” Seungcheol says. He gives Jihoon’s foot a gentle nudge under the table.

With a faint smile, Jihoon shakes his head and pulls out his work. Yeah, there’s no need to rush anything. Isn’t he entitled to a few gay moments every now and then?

 

* * *

 

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Jihoon lowers his pen from his mouth and glances up at Seungcheol.

“Hyung, it’s like, 3AM,” Jihoon says.

“I want to stretch my legs,” Seungcheol says with innocent eyes. His mouth borders on a pout—not that Jihoon’s looking at his lips.

Jihoon waits for the joke about his small stature, but thankfully, it never comes.

“Well…” Jihoon gestures to Seungcheol’s empty apartment. Jeonghan isn’t home tonight, and Jihoon doesn’t need details about that particular issue. “You can take a quick stroll around the kitchen, and maybe even the living room if you’re daring, and then we can get back to work.”

Seungcheol gets to his feet and stretches his arms. Jihoon tries hard not to stare at the flash of skin he gets as Seungcheol’s shirt rides up for a second.

Lowering his arms, Seungcheol rounds the table. For a moment there, Jihoon thinks Seungcheol will actually take his advice and stay inside the apartment. But the idea crumbles when Seungcheol settles behind Jihoon’s chair, resting his arms over the back of it, his chin coming atop of Jihoon’s head after.

“Nope,” he says simply. He hums. Jihoon can feel it against his back. “Jihoon-ah,” he continues, drawling Jihoon’s name, rolling it around with his tongue, and Jihoon swears he can feel the contours of Seungcheol’s mouth just by listening to him. “Let’s go outside. Let’s get some fresh air.”

“Hyung.” Jihoon says it with caution, with precision, and doesn’t dare to move an inch lest Seungcheol detect even a hint of his traitorous thoughts.

“Jihoon-ah,” is Seungcheol’s melodious, simple response. “Come on. It’ll be good for you.”

He’s not wrong. As Jihoon sighs, he feels his back press against Seungcheol’s stomach, feels the warmth seep between their clothes, feels his breath clatter around his lungs.

He always feels so much around Seungcheol. It sucks.

“Okay—”

The moment he agrees, Seungcheol lets out a whoop that’s a little too loud for ass-crack o’clock in the morning. Not too long after, Jihoon makes a noise of his own as Seungcheol bodily removes him from his chair. Thankfully, all the bowls and cups on the table are empty, and they clatter harmlessly among Jihoon’s yelling.

He’s still yelping as he fights to keep his balance. He grabs at Seungcheol’s arms, at the front of his shirt, anything he can reach, and ends up with a faceful of Seungcheol’s chest.

The consolation he receives for flailing around like a moron is a squeeze around the shoulders. Then Seungcheol’s body heat leaves him all at once, and Jihoon is left to stare at his hyung’s back as he pulls his shoes on.

“Come on,” Seungcheol urges. Jihoon rolls his eyes, taking his time to approach Seungcheol’s side to grab his shoes.

“So where exactly are we going?” Jihoon asks.

“Secret.”

Jihoon glances up and catches Seungcheol giving him a wink. Something hot flips in his stomach.

“That’s reassuring,” Jihoon mutters, but there’s no heat in it at all.

“Just trust me.” Seungcheol sets his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders, steering him out of his apartment before he turns to lock the door.

As they walk down the hall, the motion sensor lights flicker on as if waking from a fitful sleep. Jihoon rubs at his eyes and fights back a yawn. Even fitful sleep would be good for him, he thinks, but with finals coming up, there’s no hope in maintaining a regular routine at all.

The early-winter air hits Jihoon hard. His body trembles immediately; his breath fogs up his vision; his fingers curl into his palms. But—despite all of that, it’s nice. The crisp air fills out his lungs and nips playfully at his skin. Wonder pulls at his mouth as he looks up at the stark, yellow street lights contrasted against the pitch black sky.

“Hey,” Seungcheol murmurs. His mouth is right by Jihoon’s ear and Jihoon nearly jumps out of his skin.

Words are trapped in Jihoon’s throat, tangled by his brain before he could give them a chance to escape. Seungcheol just grins down at him, compensating for the stars lost among the city lights, and grabs Jihoon’s wrist, fingers warm against Jihoon’s heartbeat.

His lips move, and he wants to call to Seungcheol, wants to say _something_ , but he still can’t figure it out, lost in his muddled thoughts and his muddled emotions and his mismatched, criss-crossed sentiments.

Even if he knew what to say, it’s not like Seungcheol gives him much of a chance to do anything but _run_. Seungcheol breaks into a sprint, dragging Jihoon along with his too-short legs, speeding past flickering store lights and straggling night owls without a care in the world. A few laughs spill past Seungcheol’s lips only to be lost in the wind howling by their ears.

They stop after turning a sharp corner into an alleyway. Light from a nearby streetlight cuts into the shadows like sharp steel. Seungcheol’s grip on Jihoon’s wrist tightens momentarily.

“Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol says without looking at his dongsaeng, “come on.”

Still tongue-tied, Jihoon merely follows along. Seungcheol approaches a fire escape and yanks at the stairs until they come crashing downwards.

“I’ll watch your back,” Seungcheol offers, guiding Jihoon towards the first step.

Jihoon has no problem with heights, and with Seungcheol at his back, he feels oddly secure here, blanketed by the night’s cool darkness. Jihoon moves with ease; he climbs to the top of the fire escape at Seungcheol’s continuous prompts and wordlessly takes the boost offered to him in order to hoist him over the lip of the roof.

When he finally stops moving, he’s breathless; all the air in his chest manifests in billowing mist that obscures his vision.

Seungcheol takes his hand this time, not his wrist; their hands are nearly the same size, Jihoon notes, though Seungcheol’s fingers are thicker, not built for handling instruments with the same ease as Jihoon’s.

Seungcheol guides him to the other side of the roof. There are a few plastic chairs scattered around the building’s vents, though Seungcheol ignores them in favour of leaning over the lip of the roof.

“Look,” Seungcheol says, pointing out at the horizon.

Buildings stretch on for a few blocks before blinking out of sight; then, as far as the eye can see, there’s only a network of lights, a mosaic of white and yellow dotted with the occasional green and red. Lights blink and stutter like dancing fairies and Jihoon’s dumbfounded silence can only grow louder.

Seungcheol squeezes his hand once more before he lets go. He uses them to steady himself as he takes a seat on the edge of the roof, his back to the city, his legs safely rooted on the roof.

“An old friend of mine took me here once when I was young,” Seungcheol says, “and it was so long ago that I forgot who they were and why we came here in the first place. I vaguely remember the scolding I got for it.” He pauses to chuckle. “But I don’t think I could ever forget what the view was like.”

Jihoon grabs at the edge of the roof and savours the unyielding concrete under his fingers. He digs his fingertips in, fighting the cold in his bones, fighting the heat in stomach that craves Seungcheol.

After a few breaths of silence, Jihoon finally, finally finds his tongue lodged somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Why?” is all he manages, but it’s something, at least.

Jihoon can see Seungcheol’s answering grin on the edge of his vision.

“Because,” Seungcheol replies, empty as the breath that falls from his grinning lips, “just because.”

With a sigh, Jihoon deflates, feeling smaller than ever, feeling infinitesimal in the vast expanse of the city, in the stretch of Seungcheol’s lips over his teeth, a fatal, seductive steel trap.

Seungcheol’s palms make a dull sound as they advance across the edge of the roof. Jihoon can feel his neck creak as he slowly turns to look at Seungcheol.

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you, Jihoon-ah?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon’s brows furrow. “Spell what out for me?”

They left their notes back in Seungcheol’s apartment, and for the life of him, Jihoon can’t remember a thing scrawled on those godforsaken papers.

Suddenly, Seungcheol’s palm is warm against Jihoon’s cheek. His wrist rests in the fold of Jihoon’s hood, nestled against faux-fur, making a home there.

“I. Like. You,” he says, and his breath puffs out with each syllable. He leans in close, close enough to brush his nose against Jihoon’s cheek, close enough to tangle their bangs together as their foreheads meet.

Jihoon freezes. His body falls deadly silent for a moment as all of his internal organs start to fail.

Seungcheol’s thumb across his skin revs his engines back to life, and it takes all of Jihoon’s strength not to gasp for air.

“What?” Jihoon asks.

Jihoon looks down at Seungcheol’s mouth, mapping out the folds in his lips, and follows the lines of his nose up to his smiling eyes.

Seungcheol just rolls his eyes before leaning forward to seal their mouths together. Jihoon’s breath stutters in his chest with nowhere to go.

It’s not long before Seungcheol’s other hand mirrors the first, cupping Jihoon’s jaw, allowing no escape—though Jihoon doesn’t mind being trapped, not in the least, not like he thought he might. He must be easy prey: it only took one move to pin him down and render him helpless.

Seungcheol’s lips coax sweet sounds from Jihoon’s chest and he caves even further, crumbling into little pieces that tumble down the pit of Seungcheol’s mouth.

He can’t help the gasp when Seungcheol pulls away. His eyes flutter open—he can’t remember closing them—only to be blinded by the stars of Seungcheol’s eyes.

“I like you,” Seungcheol says again, simpler this time, plain and fair and clear. “Tell me you like me back.”

“I like you too,” Jihoon says automatically, fast enough to make Seungcheol laugh. Jihoon feels every breath of it, every vibration in Seungcheol’s body as the sound travels through his bones.

Seungcheol sweeps some of Jihoon’s hair out of his eyes. “Good.”

With that, he goes in for another kiss, and this time, Jihoon meets him halfway.

Staying warm despite the late November cold becomes an easy task in no time.

 

* * *

 

When they make it back to Seungcheol’s apartment, Jihoon’s head is scrambled eggs, and he keeps touching his swollen lips. Once his shoes are off, all he can do is stand in front of the door, eyes on the floor and fingers on his mouth.

“Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon looks up and sees Seungcheol with his arms stuck up to his elbows in his bag. Apparently he’s done studying.

“Stay here tonight,” Seungcheol continues.

Jihoon’s eyes widen slightly.

“It’s late, and I don’t want you to risk going home alone,” Seungcheol adds.

It’s a good excuse, Jihoon will give him that.

Jihoon glances at his school work, still scattered on the table, then to Jeonghan’s closed bedroom door, then to Seungcheol’s, before finding Seungcheol’s eyes.

He takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says, and Seungcheol smiles.

 

* * *

 

 **[Sent by: Jihoon]**  
[-photo attached-](http://66.media.tumblr.com/08e75cb586a96bb816f6de963831e66c/tumblr_od7ex7KenT1vy7ta0o1_1280.png)  
_In case you were wondering where i was last night_

 **[Sent by: Soonyoung]**  
_OH MY FUCKGNIN GOD WAHT THE FUCK TAHTS GAY!!!!_

 

Jihoon and Seungcheol break down into giggles as Jihoon replaces his phone on the bedside table. It vibrates fitfully, mirroring Soonyoung’s jumbled typing, but unfortunately, it remains untouched as Jihoon turns around in Seungcheol’s arms.

“You really got my good side there,” Seungcheol chimes. “Thanks.”

“It’s the least I could do after you so graciously offered me your hospitality,” Jihoon says in reply, gesturing at the entirety of Seungcheol’s room.

With a quiet laugh, Seungcheol squeezes Jihoon’s waist and buries his face in Jihoon’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing compared to all that you’ve given me, Jihoon-ah.”

“Ah,” Jihoon breathes, cringing despite the wide smile on his face. It’s lost against Seungcheol’s shoulder, though he has a good feeling Seungcheol can sense his expression with no trouble. “You’re a sap.”

“Yeah, but you’re stuck with me now. No take-backs.”

It’s Jihoon’s turn to laugh. Their chests brush together as Jihoon shakes with his uneven breaths.

“Fine, fine. Deal.”


End file.
